Faint Promise of Rain by Anjali Mitter Duva

Author:Anjali Mitter Duva
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2014-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

The next day, Ma headed to the temple to find Chandrabai. She had decided to ask her to accompany her. She could not rely on Hari Dev to be her eyes, for what good would it do him to learn he had a sister he had never known? And Jayarani had mentioned to Ma that Chandrabai had seemed unhappy recently. Ma hoped a day away from the temple would lift her mood. She knew nothing of the true cause of Chandrabai’s sadness. That it related to Mahendra was something she suspected, but she could not know of the child who never was, or of Chandrabai’s mixed emotions surrounding the loss.

The walk to the temple was one that Ma knew like a part of her own body. With the help of her walking stick, she did not take long to get there. The heavy gate groaned as she pushed it open, but that did not awaken the watchman whose snores drifted to her ears from the guardhouse. The air was still. It was early afternoon, and the temple itself seemed asleep. Bapu and I rested on mats in the outer sanctum. No sounds even emerged from the kitchen. Brittle weeds, sprouting untended between the flagstones in the courtyard, poked at Ma’s soles. Then she came to the dance practice area, in full sun at this hour. Here the hot stone floor was smoother, worn by generations of dancing feet. At the front, where Bapu and the dance masters before him always taught, the floor dipped slightly. Such is the power of art that it can wear away stone.

Ma continued to Chandrabai’s doorway. “Hello?”

“Hanh, I’m here. Who is it? Come in!”

Ma pushed aside the curtain and stepped into the room. It was dim, a relief to her eyes. She waited a moment to let them adjust.

“Girija-ji? What are you doing here? I mean, of course you’re welcome, but I wasn’t expecting you.”

Ma paused, taking in the room. “Well, I needed to take a walk.”

A little table by the doorway dripped with shiny shapes. Jewelry and coins. And there was a smell, something smoky that reminded her of Mahendra. Chandrabai rose from the bed across the room and came toward her. Ma stepped forward gingerly, feeling her way with her stick.

“Don’t worry what you step on, Girija-ji. I know, I should really clean up,” Chandrabai said.

Ma reached the other side of the room, and Chandrabai took her arm gently and helped her sit on the edge of the bed. The air now smelled of coconut sweets.

“Come sit here, Girija-ji. Tell me why you came.”

“I … ” Ma wondered now if it was a good idea after all to confide in Chandrabai. Perhaps, she thought, it was not right to burden Chandrabai with her worries.

“Tell me, please?”

Thoughts of Mahendra and memories of Manavi-ji filled Ma’s head. Something inside her trembled, as though an inner wall were crumbling. Chandrabai took her hand, the way her grandmother used to do.

“I’m thinking … of going to see Padmini.

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